Back Into Your System: Chronicles of Resurrection
by myToxicfate
Summary: Even if the sun goes out, even if I die, even if every star, every pinpoint of light vanished, I would never give in, I will always fight for you. You are my life, and will never be anything less. :Oc Fanfiction
1. Tragic's Preface

. B a c k I n t o Y o u r S y s t e m .

:: The Chronicles of Resurrection ::

:: Preface ::

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_I have yet to absorb the shock of this blood-heating, merciless crime lying before my trembling eyes. A beautiful, polished wood face was broken, shattered. Motionless...idle…crippled on the dark stone as golden rays gleamed over the corpse and two limped, cloaked figures resting beside him. _

_Nature ignored the misery that was consuming._ _A joyful blue hung in the atmosphere, and distant birds choired a vigorous melody. Calm breezes swooped around me, passing this scene by as if it were nothing. It all refused to look upon so many swords that ripped through his contained heart like a magic trick gone wrong. A wave of torrent washed through my veins as I struggled to gulp in enough continental air to scream. _

_My life, my purpose, my reason, all drained out. Akasuna no Sasori……_

_He's dead._

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	2. A Sealed Ultimatum

. B a c k I n t o Y o u r S y s t e m .

:: The Chronicles of Resurrection ::

:: A Sealed Ultimatum ::

____________________.____________________

I was fed up.

That was the only reason I could justify what I was doing. Loss is a way of life, but for some strange sort, I could not comprehend that speculation until it was too late. I could've gradually fought through the five stages of grief and ended up accepting the passing of Akasuna no Sasori, like most people succeed in doing when death ambled aimlessly in their mind.

But, no.

I had too much confidence swarming my esteem. Too much grief. Too much pride. Too much anger. So, I grasped at an attempt to get even with the pink-haired bitch that aided in the extermination of my sensei. An eye for an eye was the only possible resolution that could repress me of this distraught tornado of emotions that lived and breathed within me.

This explains where I was then. I was crouching at the base of an apartment window in Konohagakure no Sato. The transom was already wide open, practically inviting me into the bedroom. Continental air weaved past me and filled up the bedroom with a summer night's wind; the temperature was comfortable.

Softly, I welcomed myself into the premises and peered around at this person's taste of décor. Drab and plain for my tastes, so I quickly lost interest in the furniture. My eyes then landed on a tarp with Konoha's village symbol stitched into it. Tacky. Although, the spectacle _underneath_ the suspended sheeting caused my gaze to roughen. A distorted figure, intertwined in a sea of white sheets, was sprawled out on a firm mattress. His blonde hair extended wildly in all directions and his mouth hung open, but he caressed a pillow with visible comfort.

Anticipation spilled into my system when he caught my sight. Before I realized it, my feet were hauling themselves over to the adolescent's bedside. My arms were already extending outward so my hands could envelop themselves around his conscious neck and squeeze every drop of life out of his body. I could almost feel my artificial fingernails burrowing into his olive skin, until a smooth hard hand ceased control over my forearms.

"Let's be somewhat rational about this, Kaede-danna." A low-pitched voice occurred a few inches away from the back of my head.

"Let go of me." I then replied in a raspy tone, even though I was appreciative of Katashiro, my human puppet assistant/sensei/weapon stopping my unstrategic action from occurring. The skin-toned puppet hands followed orders without much hesitation, despite his first intentions of force. My arms fell limp by my sides. I stared blankly at the resting minor; I soon realized how expanded my eyes were and that my hands quivered uncontrollably. "I want to enjoy this."

I could hear Katashiro take a few steps backwards as he continued murmuring, "This portion musn't take too long, Danna. We're at our most vulnerable point in this dura-"

"Shh!" I interrupted him quickly, whipping my upper body to face him as my finger steadied around my lips. The puppet did not return a reaction other than an obedient stare.

As my torso coiled back to meet a straight alignment with the rest of my body, I spotted something new about the boy. He wasn't asleep anymore. Tranquil, shut eyes were replaced with terror-stricken drops of deep blue that became illuminated underneath the moon's soft light. He had stared a hole into me before he mustered up enough of his voice to almost shout. _"Who are you?"_

Much like Katashiro, my face didn't offer much of a reaction. Soon, I would answer his question.

I'd be sure to clarify that I was his maker.

_2 Months earlier…_

It was stunningly perfect travel conditions for a desert. The sand was not stirring about, and the blistering red sun had exchanged shifts with a full moon by now. Its enchanting luminosity balanced on the rolling horizon and left cool temperatures drifting. The prime virtue of the weather was, in fact, quite contenting. But the sky was green again. That pestered me to no end. In the wasteland, a night couldn't laze by with the regular sky color of onyx. It was always green. Green, green, green. After five years of being a drifter, I had to return to my homeland under a blanket of stars and vomit.

A rumbling stomach beneath me groused fiercely. Signals of the compressed, hollow feeling in my guts had just made it to my brain. Realizing how famished I really was from walking two days, I instinctively slipped my piano fingers into the cinnamon-colored tote bag I carried to grab a snack. I fished out an oat bar, which wasn't satisfying for my bottomless pit of a stomach.

"You and your human needs," a gravelly voice spoke from behind my tread. While I walked, I turned back to meet Katashiro and his multicolored stare. It was emotionless; his alternating brown and green eyes were forever trapped within a single expression that would remain as it was, like any other puppet, carved in forever. A burgundy patch of cloth rounded the right side of his face. Katashiro's thick black cloak hung past his feet and scraped into the sand as he walked. This garb could mask _up to_ ten deadly arms, each including a whole arsenal of poisonous weapons inside them. Then, there's his scraggly red hair. It distinctively reminded me of a figure from the past, my sensei, and hero. He was the one who build Katashiro for me, and I never knew if he intended his face to flash into my mind every time I locked eyes with his wooden creation. Sasori of the Red Sands~

"What's so wrong with those?" I replied to my assistant, knowing exactly what he was complaining about. He was impatient with human flaws: hunger, fatigue, feeling pain, et cetera. I, being the obnoxious person I am, expanded my mouth to take a belligerently large bite out of the packaged food.

Katashiro didn't reply. Instead, he kept his eyes on the path ahead of us, which irritated me. Honestly, I hated being ignored, so it was my first instinct to keep rambling about things. "What am I going to tell Dad?"

When I was a young and still lived in Sunagakure, I was taught by Sasori-sensei in the art of puppetry (which is why Katashiro follows me around like a dog; he's my weapon). But suddenly, he decided to disappear without a trace. Where did he go? Why did he leave? Answers never came, no matter how long I waited. If people knew why he pulled a Houdini, they sure didn't tell me. So, when I got the freedom to do whatever the hell I wanted, I set out to discover the reasonings myself. Five years of endless wandering: nothing. I'm coming home as a failure.

But the problem is, _I can't tell my dad that._ In fact, he knows nothing about my skill at all, I believe. He never wanted my brother, Sora, and I to become ninjas and learn their ways because his brother had died in combat. (This loss caused him to retire form the frontlines and get promoted to one of Sunagakure's council members.) He was worried that the same thing would happen to us, so he desired his kids to pursue a normal life. Too bad his oldest daughter, Kaede, was stupid enough to betray him right underneath his nose.

That's me, by the way, in case you didn't guess while reading that last sentence.

Katashiro's eyes slowly began to follow me. "I don't know. It's not my issue." I heard the puppet say. Feeling myself grunt with frustration, I began to feel a little nervous. He continued, noticing my reaction. "I'm confused."

"_About what?_" I snapped, my emotions washing over any appetite that remained. Finding the oat bar useless then, I dropped the rest of the food and its wrapper into the sand. My line of vision connected perfectly with his; we both stopped in our tracks and gazed at eachother for a few moments. His look, blank. My look, stern.

"It's been five years since you've last stepped foot in The Sand." Captain Obvious began lecturing. "Once you return, things will change. You're certainly old enough to make your own decisions, and your parents aren't on the grounds to punish you for your actions like you were in your adolescent years." The breeze shot up in a sudden wisp of sand and wind; I squinted and shielded my eyes while Katashiro remained as still as his statue, his long cloak and hair catching the wind.

"I'm not worried about _getting grounded_." I said after a short silence caused by the fleeting gust. "My reputation's changed. I wonder what my family and friends will think of me when I get back. What about a traitor? That fits _nicely_."

"I cannot argue with that. It's a consequence you should've thought about when you left." Criticized Katashiro. Before he finished his statement, he was travelling in that same direction once more, leaving me standing, staring angrily at the horizon. That puppet obviously didn't care, didn't understand how unstable my thoughts could be. But I did. I was smarter than to vanish from the village just like Sasori-sensei, but something even stronger caused my rationality to swerve into another direction, resulting in my dispatch. A force greater than logic. It was the indestructible energy radiating from the heart.

"You wouldn't know." I mumbled with the same emotion that I was portraying to the vanishing point of the sand. Halfheartedly, I pursued Katashiro's path towards Sunagakure.

We walked with the company of silence for many hours, along with a few sitting breaks. This was how the last five years were summarized: walking, walking, sitting, settling in a pit stop, training, walking, walking, walking, sitting, walking, walking, walking, walking, sitting, training, walking, and continued. It was much like that very scenario, walking in silence for drawn out periods of time. The lack of communication between the both of us was not an issue; neither of us felt akward. Or at least I didn't.

Katashiro was the one to break the ice when a plateau-like figure ascended from beneath the horizon. "The Jamón." He stated. I myself, gaped marvelously at the Sand's gates simultaneously with the puppet. At once I was excited, ready to launch myself in a sprint. But as I realized what threats lied behind the walls, that burst of thrill diminished.

I felt a slip of paper shoved into my grip. I looked quickly, and of course it was Katashiro. He closed my hand into a fist and protectively caressed it with both of his clacky palms. "Please meet me at this address as soon as you can, Kaede-danna." Said he hastily, as if we had minimal time left. I looked at him curiously. Once he let go, I read the paper without much thought and couldn't hold back a snicker.

"I didn't know puppets could write." My smile curled and parted into a smirk, but I could tell that Katashiro was not amused with the stereotyped joke. In fact, he ignored me like before, taking off at high speeds to the Jamón.

Upon arriving at the multi-layered defensive system known as the Jamón, I received a few gawps that marked me as recognizeable to some ninja. Perhaps they knew my dad, or my face from five years ago? Who knows. I just kept my eyes hidden, because having so many pupils focused on me was quite uncomforting on my part. Part of my bangs showered over one eye already, but the other one was exposed.

After walking through a man-made clay/sand trench, the enormous density and mass of Sunagakure's buildings overwhelmed me. I was observing the city at a higher elevation, and I felt if I stepped into it, I'd get lost in the sea of structures. One of those residentials wedged near the epicenter of this civilization was my own home, where three family members would wake up to find their daughter positioned at their threshold.

It seemed like forever, but I was before that very threshold soon enough. My feet were burning, my eyelids were heavy, and my lower back moaned in pain; I supported myself on the doorframe and delivered four pulsed knocks onto the wood. As I expected, the passive beckoning did not catch any attention behind the walls. This time, I repeated the move with more force.

It was probably past midnight; they were sleeping, so they wouldn't be roused so easily. On the final try, the door became my punching bag. With a few hammers and a kick or two, my response was almost immediate. A blonde woman dressed in a silky bath robe practically threw the door off its hinges as she opened it. Her expression was distorted and completely pissed off, and her burgundy eyes gleamed through the darkness of the home. And the only feedback I received from her were her eyes as they looked into my identical irises endlessly, for what could match up to the time I was gone, for what seemed like years. Finally, without a word, the door commenced easing shut.

This action completely threw me into a phase of shock, but I was in reality enough to kick my foot in the way and ricochete the entry back forward. The woman stumbled backwards at the power I enforced into that shove. "As my own _fucking_ mother," my rage yelled for me, "I'd expect you to at _least_ tell me to get the fuck away before shutting the door in my face! Jesus Christ!" an explosion of heat ravaged through my muscles as I commited forced entry. It was annoying. Disrespectful. I wanted to strangle that bastard for mistreating her child in such a manner.

Kikiyou Hakinya, Mom, didn't define what a mom should be. This particular mom I hated. First of all, her and Dad's age difference was twenty years, probably more; she was a blonde cunt-face golddigger who only had kids because either birth control failed or because she ran out of pills. She treated Sora and I like crap, more like annoying co-workers than spawns. Nor did she respect my dad (but I won't get into those details quite yet).

"_What are you doing back?_ I thought you were gone for good!" my mom hissed, her eyes never dislocating from my exaggerated entry. Her chin scooped high and her arms were crossed, radiating a cocky pride that was her trademark. I wanted to let my palm race across her face; I wanted to slap the shit out of that scowl. In fact, my hand was stretched back, ready to let my own dreams come true, until a harmonious "_shhhh_" broke my violent intents. Concurrently, my mother's gaze and mine shot to the figure emerging from the dimmed lighting of the stairwell that was located in the same room as the front door. At first, a pair of lengthy, forest green pajama pants slid into view. A man in his sixties, light brown hair that's almost completely gray, was the one to interrupt our conversation. A wrinkling finger pressed against his lips, while he used the railing to guide his somewhat wobbly gait down the stairs.

"Honey…" Mom suddenly softened her overall body and verbal language at the sight of her own husband, Mamorou Hakinya, also known as Dad. She rushed softly to his side, her feet seeming to barely touch the ground as she moved. Her arm found its place behind his back, signaling him to stop, but he continued forth.

"I thought I could recognize that vulgar use of words from anywhere!" he lightly chimed, a peaceful smile striking his face. "Let me know you're really there." Said he as he reached a few feet from where I was standing, my body language still tense at Mom's presence. Dad extended his arms out to me; I hesitated, but collapsed into his clinch, partly because of the pain in my feet. My father embraced me tighter than I could ever remember, rocking back and forth and holding a lock of my hair between his fingers.

"Hey, Dad." I said into his collar bone. "I'm _am_ here."

"Good!" Dad pulled back and then bent his palms over my shoulders. "Welcome home, Kaede!"

I furrowed my brows at Mom in the background. Now that Dad became a physical and emotional barrier that separated our fiest from colliding, she stood calmy, the fire inside her seemed to be burning out for the moment. At the same time, our temporary glance was uncomfortable and daring.

"Hey." Dad ringed blissfully, dreamily, trying to catch my attention again, "You must be exhausted."

"Sort of." I replied, now trying to ignore the pains throughout my body. A yawn snuck up on me. Fuck you, yawn. Dad's going to-

Dad laughed unconsciously, "I understand that you've been in this house for less than five minutes, but I believe its wise for you to catch a few hours of rest before we talk about this." he then suggested. His head was cocked to the side and he stared at me with deep, brown eyes. I nodded, agreeing with him that I was completely drained of life energy.

Dad led me to my bedroom with an arm around my shoulder and guided me onto what seemed like a cloud from heaven. He layed me, in my dirty and sweaty clothes, upon this unbelievably soft surface who's comfort could not be described with words. I was within the hip-hugging security of this barrier from the harsh, outside world. Homecoming was so quick. It was of my parents' characteristics to jump to inquiries so quickly. Ah well…eh…

Before I could reflect the last few minutes anymore, I entered a bottomless comatose.

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**Credits: **The series Naruto and the original characters and setting. including the Akatsuki, Sunagakure no Sato, etc., belongs to Masashi Kishimoto. "Back Into Your System" originated from _Saliva_'s album, _Back Into Your System_, released in 2002. However, I take credit for the creation of the fanmade characters that have been introduced so far. They belong to me and only me.


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